A/N: I am so happy/relieved/excited, etc., that the response, so far, has been overwhelmingly positive for this. I've been struggling with writer's block and a lack of confidence in my writing lately (even as I worked on this and other projects), so the comments I've gotten have been quite reassuring. I hope to keep you interested for the whole 15 chaps. Anyhoo, thank you so much and enjoy. :)

xoxo, La


Tony barely had a chance to take in Loki's appearance before he was being held tightly against him. For a moment, time slowed, and like he was a hopelessly in love woman in one of those chick flicks—that he totally never watched—he slowly exhaled the breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Then, as if someone snapped their fingers and reminded Loki just whom he was hugging, he pulled away and Tony was left cold again. He was pissed, that much was obvious to Tony. And he didn't blame him one bit. What Tony had done was despicable.

Thrown off by the hug, he had actually forgotten why he was there for a fleeting moment. Not even a minute in Loki's presence and the man was already pissed off with him. What did you expect?

"Can I come in? Please. Just for a minute. Or two."

Behind his back, Tony crossed his fingers, silently praying to all the deities he could think of—none of whom he believed in—that Loki would give him a small break and allow him in. He even hoped his ordeal might play a part in Loki's decision. Pathetic.

He hesitated briefly as Loki walked away, but took it as an invitation that he didn't slam the door in his face. Again. Stepping over the threshold, he closed the door behind him, and took a glance around. The living room, furnished with a black entertainment center, two black couches, and a wine-red throw rug under the black coffee table, was spacious and immaculate, considering what the outside looked like. A fresh bouquet of red roses sat in the center of the dining table just behind the sofa, and ahead of him, Tony spotted a kitchen, and beyond that, a dark hallway, but he couldn't see exactly how many bedrooms there may have been.

"Nice place."

"Get on with it, Anth—Stark." Loki had lowered to the longer sofa and picked up a number two pencil. The way he twirled it told Tony he was as anxious as he. "I have work to do. As you can see." He swept his hand over the table before him, covered in papers. It made Tony's chest hurt the way Loki corrected himself, and hanging his head he crossed the room to sit in the adjacent, slimmer sofa.

"Um. I owe you an explanation," he started softly.

"No."

The single word had Tony's head lifting, brow furrowed. "What?"

Loki pushed the fingers of one hand through his hair, still long and past his shoulders, shoving it away from his face, and shook his head. "You owed me an explanation nine years ago."

Tony's chest felt hollow; which was almost funny considering the piece of metal he now had lodged in the center of it, keeping him alive.

"Now…" Loki made a disgusted face. "It doesn't mean anything."

"Loki, just let me—"

"I don't want to hear your excuses!"

Tony stared at Loki, a little taken aback, watching the man practically have a silent conversation with himself, forcing himself to calm down and keep it together. He swallowed when Loki pressed his hands to his face and pretended not to notice when he swiped at his damp eyes. Loki breathed out sharply, almost scoffing and tossed down his pencil. Tony didn't move, but to glance up, just as the raven-haired man lifted his left arm to push his hair back again, and caught a flash of something on the side of Loki's hand before he crossed his arms. Was that…a tattoo?

Tony sat up a little straighter, lips parting to speak, but Loki beat him to it.

"How did you even find me?"

"…Oh. Uh. Well, I…"

They both tensed and looked up at the door when voices were heard behind it and a key turned in the lock. Unnecessarily, since Loki hadn't locked it. Tony panicked; he hadn't even thought that Loki might have a roommate. Or worse—considering those roses he shot a look at now—a live-in boyfriend.

Shit, shit, shit!

As had become his habit, he reached up to tug at his shirts, making sure the arc reactor was sufficiently hidden, and prepared to meet someone new. Instead, though, two very familiar faces walked in, and Tony's jaw nearly hit the floor.


Mother had always warned him that his temper would get the better of him.

Loki clenched his fists, his teeth, and anything else he could clench, thinking he must have been crazy to let Tony into his home. Despite whatever he'd been through recently—which Loki had kept tabs on religiously, because he was scared to death the one person on this planet that he had once loved would perish before he got any answers to the numerous questions he had—a part of him felt Tony didn't really deserve this chance. What he'd done had screwed Loki up for a long time afterward. It had hurt worse than Thanos' fists or Laufey's words ever had. And Loki's predilection for risky behavior increased for awhile, until a surprising presence saved him. Literally. He hadn't been this frustrated in so long. And just when he was ready to tell Tony to get out, his roommate's familiar voice and deep chuckle were coming from the other side of the door.

Before he could think of any way to explain why Tony Stark was sitting in their living room, the door pushed open and a laughing Bucky and smiling Steve stepped inside.

"Whoa…" Bucky noticed Tony first and stumbled to a stop, with Steve crashing into him, mumbling a shocked oh my god under his breath, then immediately they both looked to Loki. He covered his face with both hands now. He only peeked over his fingers when Steve spoke up again. "Tony?" At the awkward throat-clearing, Loki dropped his hands to see Tony rising and holding out his hand to them both. And rolled his eyes at the absurdity of the situation.

"Steve. Bucky." Both men politely shook his hand, shooting questioning glances Loki's way the whole time.

"Uh, good to see you in one piece."

"Buck," Steve jabbed his elbow into his side.

"What? What am I supposed to say?" Bucky almost whispered. Almost.

"It's fine," Tony supplied, stepping back to lower to his seat again.

"We volunteered, you know?" Everyone looked at Steve expectantly. Bucky was strongly trying to convey a message of shut the hell up with just his eyes, Loki could tell. "To search for you, I mean. We...well, I'm still in the army," he explained with a soft grin. "On leave, actually, right now. Bucky got out. But…anyway. They didn't need us…then."

Tony nodded, politely but strained, and clasped his hands together. "Thanks."

"James." Bucky and Steve looked at Loki, who gave a subtle jerk of his head as he rubbed at his temple. Smoothing a hand over his pulled back hair, tied neatly into a bun at the back of his head, Bucky answered him with a firm nod.

"Right. Well. Good seeing you, Stark." Bucky clamped a hand on his shoulder, gave it a shake, slipped the other in Steve's, and started to lead him down the hallway.

"Take care, Tony." Steve waved, glanced back at Loki, and nearly tripped when Bucky gave his arm a sharp tug and pulled him into the closest bedroom in the hallway. Moments later, loud music began to blast, muffled by the closed door. Loki wanted to laugh at the ridiculousness of what had become of his quiet evening, settled instead on rubbing at his tired eyes.

"Since when are you and Rogers friends?"

Black strands went flying as Loki flipped his head up, eyes narrowing incredulously at Tony, at the derisiveness in his tone. "Oh, just since he saved my life, actually."

The almost accusatory glare on Tony's face vanished. "…What?"

"Hm. Didn't hear about that at M.I.T.?" Not giving Tony a chance to respond, Loki snatched up his forgotten food and now cold cup of tea and headed into the kitchen. He completely expected Tony would follow, and the genius, for once, did not disappoint.